


I pity you, I pity me, I pity you

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War & Peace (TV 2007), War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dolokhov is psycho, Guilt, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 06:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Nikolai is there and Anatole is not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for my English, there are possibly many mistakes.
> 
> Dolokhov is fierce and very important.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome ;)

Nikolai is there and Anatole is not, and it’s not Dolokhov’s fault he always associates one with the other. Anatole was always a wild card, unstable and childish, reckless in everything he ever did, even in his decision to seduce that little Rostov girl, and all Dolokhov could do was stand aside and watch him slowly destroy the poor girl’s world and dreams.

It didn’t shake him, not at all; it was actually quite amusing to see someone falling into the same trap Anatole set up for him once upon a time.

 

 

_“It’s taking her so long to answer, Anatole.”_

_“Just give her time. She’s probably too scared to even write my name by now,” Anatole laughed and added one more desperate plea to his newest letter for the countess. “Give her more time.”_

_“I thought you’d be more successful.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Well – how long has it been since your first passionate letter? Three weeks? Two weeks? And she’s still unsure of her feelings?” Dolokhov shook his head pathetically. “No no no, my dear Anatole, you’re definitely not as good as you think.”_

_“So you think you can do better?”_

_“I’m sure about that.”_

_“Oh really?” Anatole raised his eyebrows and a smirk appeared on his lips. “Why don’t you prove your abilities then?”_

_“How? Should I court her now?”_

_“Not her, Fedya. She’s mine. Well, she’ll be soon enough,” he corrected himself after he noticed the amused smile on Dolokhov’s face. “What about someone else, someone close to her?”_

_Dolokhov frowned. “Who do you mean?”_

_Anatole burst into a heartfelt laugh. “You think you’re so good with words and you can make anyone do anything you want – why don’t you try and use your charms on other Rostovs?”_

_“Natasha’s mother?”_

_“No, you fool. Her brother!”_

_“You mean Nikolai Rostov?”_

_“Yes.” Kuragin’s satisfied look spoke for more than thousand words. “What’s the problem? You know him well from the army.”_

_Dolokhov stared at him in disbelief. “What are you saying, Anatole? You want me to seduce another man?”_

_“Of course,” Anatole smiled, and then he leaned closer to Dolokhov and his breath smelled of wine and tobacco and it felt so hot against Fyodor’s ear. “That makes it more interesting and...exciting, doesn’t it? The more forbidden the fruit, the sweeter the taste.”_

_“You can’t be serious.”_

_“And yet I am.”_

_“That’s crazy. Nikolai is...he’s practically engaged.”_

_“Oh, does that really matter? I’m married – “ He placed his hand on Fyodor’s head and pulled him closer until their mouths were only mere millimeters apart – “and I can do this – “ He pressed his lips on Dolokhov’s in a firm, warm kiss that was so usual between them and that meant nothing._

_Or at least Anatole always said so._

 

 

Nikolai is there and Anatole is not, and it’s freezing cold and Moscow with all its palaces and balls and salons is so far away, lost somewhere between ashes and snow, and vodka doesn’t help anymore to erase the dull pain in Dolokhov’s chest.

Nikolai still plays cards and he doesn’t have money to pay his debts, as always, so at least some things don’t change, Dolokhov thinks. And Nikolai drinks vodka too and it makes him angry and sad at the same moment, and he even challenges Dolokhov to a duel during one of his drunken rages.

Dolokhov just laughs it off.

He’s not willing to kill the young man because Nikolai reminds him of Anatole and of the ridiculous bet they made to seduce the two Rostov siblings

 

 

_"How can I seduce him? He's not a little girl like Natasha!"_

_"He's a little boy," Anatole shrugged. "What difference does it make to you? You're his friend, it's easier for you."_

_"Really?"_

_"He owes you a lot of money, doesn't he?"_

_"So am I supposed to blackmail him?"_

_"Make him beholden to you. Make him think he loves you. Make him go crazy."  Anatole's fingers mapped a trail down Dolokhov's chest. "And then - " his fingers stopped " - make him scream your name in his dreams."_

 

 

Nikolai is there and Anatole is not and Petya Rostov is dead, Dolokhov saw him bloodied and lifeless, lying in the snow. He also saw Nikolai shaking his younger brother’s body and calling his name in the driest and most desperate voice he’s ever heard, and now he wishes he didn’t.

He never cared about other people dying.

He never cared about _other people_ in the first place.

Maybe only with the exception of his own family.

And Anatole and Heléne.

They both were like a family to him, a twisted and sick family, of course, but still close enough to share all the dirtiest secrets and wishes and dreams.

He loved Anatole and he loved Heléne and he loved the way they loved each other and he wanted to have them both just for himself and he was jealous of all their lovers, all the men and women that went through their beds. Sometimes Anatole would ask him what’s the matter and he would just shake his head and ask “How many people did you have in your bed in your life?” and Anatole would laugh and say “Too many” as the most natural answer.

Dolokhov knew he couldn’t be Anatole’s only love, therefore he decided to be the most obedient one.

And the thought of seducing both Natasha and Nikolai seemed amusing.

 

 

_Yes, he did take advantage of Nikolai’s passion for playing cards._

_Yes, he did take advantage of Nikolai’s inability to drink the whole night._

_Yes, he did take advantage of Nikolai’s break-up with Sonya that was so predictable yet badly received._

_Yes, he did take advantage of all the flaws the young Rostov had._

_They were drinking as usual, playing cards and dice as usual, and Nikolai drank too much as usual, but this time Dolokhov actually paid attention to him and all his glasses of vodka and wine that were being emptied too fast._

_And when Nikolai started babbling about his little brother, Dolokhov decided it’s the right time to take things further and he dragged him out of the tavern. The stars were shining brightly that night and it was cold outside, Nikolai shivered and Dolokhov surprised himself by taking his own coat off and wrapping it around the younger man’s shoulders._

_“You’ve had too much.”_

_He escorted Rostov to his tent and waited until he was lying motionless in his bed; that was the right moment for the next move._

_Nikolai looked like an angel with his peacefully closed eyes, no matter how unemotional Dolokhov tried to be._

_“I love you with all my heart,” he whispered, just to try out the acoustics of the place._

_Rostov mumbled something incoherent and rolled on his side._

_Dolokhov sat down on the side of his bed. “Is there any possible cure for a love this crazy?”_

_He ran his fingers through Nikolai’s hair and counted the sighs coming from Nikolai’s half-opened mouth._

_“They say your sister is a remarkably pretty young lady – but she’s nothing compared to you.”_

_It didn’t feel half as strange as Dolokhov thought it would._

_Finally, Nikolai opened his eyes, unable to fall asleep in his state, and his confused wandering eyes found Dolokhov, who was still sitting beside him._

_“You’re the only reason I’m alive, Nikolyushka,” Dolokhov whispered into the silence._

_The next day, Nikolai Rostov woke up with a terrible headache and hundreds of questions regarding what has happened between him and Fyodor Dolokhov._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stakan" is a Russian glass for vodka.
> 
> now you can scream at me in the comments ;)
> 
> sorry for my English, as always

There is something sinfully addicting in the feeling of superiority that Dolokhov gets with Nikolai around and it has nothing to do with neither army rank nor age. It’s more the thought of Rostov as a weak glass statue that just looks good and crumbles immediately if not handled carefully.

So this is what Anatole is so fascinated with in Natasha? Good.

Dolokhov was not fascinated, not at all. He’s seen younger, prettier and more naive girls and boys getting destroyed by the world, by an unconfirmed speculation or a much too verbose friend who couldn’t tell a gossip from a secret.

It's a feeling much darker than _fascination_ \- it's the urge to grab Nikolai by his shoulders and push him against the wall - because he's weak, so _ridiculously_ week it's laughable - and just wait for his reaction, wait for those frightened eyes, _oh god_ , he could hurt him, he could smash his head with a bottle of wine and watch that pretty face get all bloodied from the cuts - and just the thought of it arouses him. He can't close his eyes without seeing Nikolai hurt, beaten, with bruises all over his body, unconscious - and all the imaginary blood and gore doesn't make him want to throw up, it makes him want to see more, it makes him want to see it in real life.

And yet it's not _hate_ what he feels for Nikolai. He just can't name it accordingly.

He wishes he could hurt him - not for the violence, but for the storm of emotions it would cause. He's always been interested in other people's emotions. 

Anatole once said it's because he himself doesn't have any.

And he just shrugged.

Anatole and Heléne were both of the same kind, and he could read them like a book very soon. There was no hint of surprise, nothing new, and he grew used to their bickering and flirting too easily. He needed more.

And this Rostov boy was _just the right_ person;  _damn_ , Anatole had great ideas sometimes.

 

 

It seemed like weeks since Dolokhov's last sober night, yet when his friends invited him to the tavern in the evening, he agreed. There was nothing else he would rather do - and from what he understood, Rostov was to be there as well.

It took him a bottle of wine and a few rounds of vodka shots to finally get a seat next to Nikolai, who was being a bit too loud and a bit too red in his face.

"Rostov," he addressed him, wrapping his hand around Nikolai's shoulder. "How come you can afford _this_ but not paying your debts?"

The noise around the table stopped immediately.

That was a very _Dolokhov-like_ way to start a conversation.

And anything associated with Dolokhov oozed danger.

Nikolai looked at him in panic which might have been increased by the amount of vodka he'd chugged down already. Then he slowly got himself out of the lazy half-hug.

"I will repay my debts," he stated surprisingly coherently. "I just can't...right now."

Dolokhov shifted closer on the wooden bench. "I know, I know... But I'm not sure I can trust someone who spends his money so irresponsibly."

"I always keep my word, Dolokhov." His voice was so sharp and clear it was almost unbelievable that it belonged to the person sitting at the table with a _stakan_ of vodka in front of him.

"I'm not questioning your own personal accountability, dear Nikolai Ilyich," Dolokhov laughed and his arm found Nikolai's shoulders again. "I just doubt your ability to pay the debts in your regrettable situation."

"What _regrettable situation_?" Nikolai's face grew redder with each word. "Are you implying something?"

"I would never dare to do so."

"Then what are you talking about? I gave you my word, the word of _a Rostov_!"

A satisfied smile curled Dolokhov's lips. "And I really hope I can count on that, _Nikolyushka_."

The puzzled look on Rostov's face was definitely worth it.

Dolokhov took Nikolai's half-empty glass, raised it to his mouth and drank in one gulp.

The others started talking again, relieved that the short discussion didn't turn out to be a reason for one of Dolokhov's next duels.

" _Nikolyushka_ ," Rostov repeated dreamily.

Dolokhov reached for an open bottle of vodka and poured some into the now empty glass as if he was not interested at all in Nikolai's process of thoughts.

"You called me ...  _Nikoyushka_... before ..."

"My dear Nikolai..." Dolokhov handed him the glass and pressed his forehead against the side of Nikolai's head just to _feel him_ , just to have his lips almost touching Rostov's ear. "I forgot my manners then, I know." His voice went low, so low that Nikolai's breath got caught in his throat. "And I _beg you_ to forgive me. But I couldn't help it. Seeing you is the worst thing that can happen to my volubility - I can't find any words to describe just _how it feels_ to be so close and yet unable to touch you - "

" _Stop it_ ," Rostov blurted out in a manner that was more confused than angry.

"I wish I could - "

"I should go now - "

"Are you running away?"

"I need some fresh air."

Dolokhov practically jumped out of his seat and gallantly stood behind Nikolai, ready to help him with getting up as well. "Let me accompany you - "

He offered his hand to Nikolai - "Just allow me this pleasure," he whispered. There was nothing strange about two men walking out of the tavern hand in hand; the comradeship was stronger here than usual and nobody would bat an eye over the sight of two young men walking together, side by side.

 

 

"What was that supposed to mean, Dolokhov?" Nikolai asked when they stepped out into the winter countryside.

"What do you mean? I only said what was on my mind."

"What - what about that name. _Nikolyushka_. Where did you get that?"

"When I looked at you."

"Stop with this nonsense already - "

Dolokhov's strong arms grabbed his shoulders and before he could protest, Dolokhov's mouth was so close to his that he could hardly breathe. "You don't know what passion is, Nikolai. You don't know how it feels to always wait for one moment - one fleeting moment of happiness when your loved one walks by - you don't know how it feels to be destroyed by the flame of passion that eats you from the inside - you have no idea how much, _how much_ and how deep I want to kiss you right now - I've wanted to do this for so long - "

" _Oh, God -_ "

That was all that Nikolai could say. He didn't even try to resist.

A smirk appeared on Dolokhov's lips, hidden by the darkness. "Come on then - "

There was no further explanation needed as he dragged Rostov across the tavern's court and then further away from the houses and cabins - on the completely opposite side.

"Wait - Dolokhov - "

"What?"

" _What are you doing_?"

It was almost like all of Nikolai's drunkenness had disappeared and he was a brand new person.

"Trying to prove _the truth_ behind my words, _Kolyushka_."

They stood in a snow-covered plain with nobody in sight and it was Dolokhov once again who took over the initiative. "You have _no idea_ how _good_ you look in that uniform," he nodded towards his clothes. "You have no idea - "

"What does _this all_ mean?"

"Do you _really_ want to know?."

With those words, Dolokhov - being his unusually playful self, maybe influenced by the alcohol, maybe by the starry night and maybe feeling provoked by Nikolai's parted lips - pulled Rostov down to the snow and forced himself on top of his lying body.

"What _the hell_ \- ?"

"Well?" Dolokhov asked breathily, pinning Nikolai's hands down on the ground behind his head. "And now - do you trust me? Do you believe what I've said before - about love and passion and - " he lowered his voice " - wanting you desperately?"

" _Let go of me_ \- "

"Why would I do that? _Why would you want that?_ " Dolokhov laughed softly "You like that, don't you?" and then, holding onto a handful of Nikolai's hair, he kissed him roughly, pressing Rostov's body to the ground. " _Try to deny that_."

"You're drunk - "

"How does that feel? Better than with any of your whores, huh? Better than with Sonya?"

"Don't talk _\- of her_ \- "

"You need a man, _Jesus_ , look at yourself - such a lustful spoiled young man - nobody could ever make you satisfied, right? Because you needed more - more than some silly kisses and promises - _look at me_ , look at me and tell me - "

Nikolai tried to move but Dolokhov was too strong and had no problem with squeezing him even tighter - and it was not painful nor hard to bear, it just felt scary to know what Dolokhov is doing.

" _Stop_ \- "

"Tell me - am I right or wrong? Don't you want someone to do just _this_ to you - to hold you pinned down like this and not take _"no"_ as an answer? Isn't this what you crave?"

He could both _see_ and _feel_ Nikolai trying to catch his breath.

"Don't you like the idea of being so helpless and lost - doesn't that feel _exciting_?"

"Stop - "

" _Don't you want more_?"

 "No," Nicolas cried, and his desperate plea was silenced by Dolokhov's hand that covered his mouth.

" _Shhh,_ " he whispered in an almost caring way. "Think of the things you've always wanted to do, think of all your _darkest dreams_ and _wishes_ \- "

He let go of Nikolai's hands. 

Nikolai didn't even move.

"Isn't this exactly what you've always dreamt of? I know you, Nikolai, I know how you feel - "

A ragged breathing was all that could be heard.

 _You're giving up early, count Rostov_ , Dolokhov thought.

So Anatole was right - _once again_ \- Rostov _is_  just a little boy indeed. Who would have thought that such innocence could be hidden behind the mask of a soldier?

Well now, _that_ was at least _interesting_.

It only made him want to take _all that_ away, all the _innocence_ , all the _false adulthood_ , all the _family pride_ - 

Nikolai actually looked good, lying in the snow, paralyzed with fear and waiting for his fate. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dolokhov whispers in a mellifluous voice, with all the images of violent rage still vivid in his head. "I've _never loved_ until I laid my eyes on _you_ - And I know it might be hard to believe - but I've been watching you for some time and I know you're hiding your feelings inside too _. Just let go._ There's nobody here. I love you. I love you and I want you so much - is that a bad thing? Have I ever hurt you? Am I hurting you now? Come on. Tell me. _Come on_. Kiss me. _There's nobody else_. Just one kiss and I swear - I _love you_." It's not _just one_ kiss, although Dolokhov tries to be as tender as possible. "When will you _believe_ , Nikolai? I've loved you for years. Don't you remember all the times I _took care_ of you - I'll forgive you everything. All your debts, if you wish. Just let me kiss you again. Come on. _Kiss me_. _Kiss me_."

And that's exactly when Nikolai gives in and pulls Dolokhov closer instead of fighting him off. 

 

 

Nikolai is there and Anatole is dead.

There’s no point in playing the twisted game with young Rostov’s feelings anymore.

Sometimes Dolokhov wishes he could just _stop_.


End file.
